Where It Began
by Krugerstop
Summary: What awaits a young woman adjusting to a new life in the heart of a decaying Los Angeles? Olivia is full of uncertainty, but that's all life is made of, isn't it. Under Kruger's roof, she'll have to face hell in order to survive. Somehow they make it work. Slightly OOC in the future.
1. An Introduction

_**Hello there, and welcome to this little story. **_

_**Based on what once started as a self-insert (yes I know, go ahead and groan and allow that to pass), now becomes this, a pairing I've been writing for approximately 6 months now. **_

_**Normally I keep my work on my personal Tumblr account, but I finally have the balls to upload my work here.**_

_**I'd like to thank user leave your sanity at the door**__** for helping me with both my confidence and for critiquing my writing thus far. What a saint.**_

_**Chapters will come in time, and there will be violence, smut, and the like. **_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

The world had changed, but to those born after, the past was foreign.

From her few books Olivia knew as much as she was free to. Her schooling had ended years ago, out to the east of the United States. University was out of the picture, as up until her graduation of public school, her education had been without charge. If she had dared to take another step beyond that line, then she would risk asking her family to dig too deeply into their pockets. As much as her parents had wanted the best for their child, as most parents do, they could not afford to send her off for a higher calling. Olivia had accepted that fate at age 14.

The only thing left for her was to leave. There was nothing for her here. With companies falling into corporate ruin and the South being stricken into a financial crisis, she had to go. Of course where she dared to go was no better than home. The city of Los Angeles was facing a hard time of its own. When her flight had flown over the beginning of the city limits, she managed to squeeze by the aircraft's window and see the current state of decay. Overpopulation, high rates of crime, and "a city living in sin" as her mother had called it, were awaiting her below.

Leaving home hadn't been easy, as her family was all she had ever known. But even still her father recognized the wanderlust in her at an early age. He had urged her to go, as it was her time now to try and make something of what the world was giving her, and that was an opportunity to run. With a few bags in hand, she kissed her family goodbye and stopped to cry with her mother. "You get your emotions from her side of the family," her father had laughed as he drove her to the airstrip. He was known for only talking when he found it necessary – a trait she would soon notice she developed herself – and for being a bit of a stone-faced man.

"I think I get something from both sides. Mainly yours."

"That you do. Thank the good Lord above you didn't get their tendency to be incredibly irritable."

Olivia laughed and turned to the window. Anything to hide her crying.

Now ultimately alone in a city she had only seen through search engines, Olivia had to learn to move quick and think light on her feet. She clung tight to her belongings and found a corner of the airport to stop and gather her thoughts. Call a taxi, get to the nearest apartment complex, slap down the first note of rent and settle in. She'd find a job in the morning.

The taxi ride didn't calm her nerves, as the driver weaved through traffic and slammed on the brakes whenever he deemed it necessary. He spoke fast and seemed to want her in and out of his cab as soon as possible. She paid him and stepped away from the dirty vehicle just as he blared the horn at an adjacent driver and proceeded to cut them off and weave back into the city. That was when she excused herself into a nearby alley and vomited from the empty pits of her stomach.

Finding a room wasn't the hard part of her move. She knew she would have to settle for first-come-first-serve, and that was what she got. One bedroom, one bath, and a den and kitchen would keep her satisfied. The woman who had taken her money at the front desk was surprisingly pleasant for owning such a shabby little place. She had sprayed her room with a can of Febreze before they both stepped inside, but the faux aroma of clean cotton did not last long. Helping her put her bags away she asked why she had come to Los Angeles. Most people who came only did so to get away or for business, and even then it wasn't much of a wanting to be here, but rather a necessity.

"Seemed like the best option."

But maybe it wasn't.


	2. Chapter 1

As it would seem, Los Angeles was not the ideal place to choose to settle down.

From what Olivia could make of the city around her, values had been abandoned to help make room for surviving this dystopia. Families were putting children to work, making the elderly stand out in the hot sun and sell whatever they could to get by. Kids were pickpocketing and left to fend for themselves in small groups.

Then there were people like her, young men and women, trapped within the city limits and too afraid to go beyond it. You either sold your humanity to the city's heart and soul, or you died like a starved dog.

The more Olivia felt ostracized from the community, the more she saw herself as the latter. The last job she had been fired from now left her with no income, and she was afraid her life was on the line. There was enough money to last her through the end of the month, but what would follow was unknown. Strike that, she knew exactly where she'd end up: either living in the back alleys or left for dead. Neither option was pleasant, but both did manage to leave a nauseating sensation in the pit of her stomach.

The end of August came too quickly, and she knew her fate would be decided the next morning. The landlady approached Olivia, who sat by herself at a small table by the television set. She put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. At least it was comforting. She didn't turn to look her in the eye, but continued to stare down into her tea.

"I'm sorry, hon, but I'm afraid you'll have to pack your things."

"Yeah. I know."

Olivia's eviction was no one's fault but her own. Over the span of her unemployment, she had sold off much of her belongings, and unfortunately, a sizeable amount of her own clothing. Everything she now possessed was packed carefully in a messenger bag that bounced on her hip.

"Where will you go?" The landlady had been kind enough to spare her a few dollars and a handful of change. She was worried about what would happen to the sweet young woman who had just months ago made herself at home under her roof.

"I'll find something." She had tried to give her a reassuring smile, but there was no point in being insincere. Throwing her bag over her shoulder she made out into the streets and merged seamlessly into the crowd.

It was known that there was a considerable difference of atmosphere between night and day. During the daylight hours there was chaos, throngs of people crowding the streets, and the loud roars of aircrafts flying overhead. One in particular, one branded with the mark of the military, was known to fly quite low to the ground and cause heavy clouds of dust to stir up the people below. She had spotted it many times before from her veranda, cruising the skies as if to keep watch as the city slept.

She wished she could see it now as she walked the streets at night. It had lately become her equivalent to the North Star, something far away yet familiar enough to reassure her of her surroundings. But it was nowhere in sight, and she was undoubtedly lost.

From what she could tell, she had wandered into what was considered the outskirts of LA; not exactly as far as the abandoned tracks outside of the city, but far enough to consider yourself in a back alley of crime.

Olivia kept her eyes low as she parted through the nighttime crowd. She was fucked if she didn't manage to find a place soon. Forget trying to find a home tonight. As long as she could hide away in a hole in the wall far away from here, she could last through the night. There was a bus stop down a few blocks, and if she could reach it, surely it would be enough.

Cutting corners she walked steadily down block after block, hoping to get away as quickly as possible.

The shelter was just ahead, sitting under the flickering light of a streetlamp. Right now it was the most comforting thing she had seen all day.

Passing by a narrow alley, she paid no mind to the two men smoking cigarettes, or the footsteps that shadowed her.

Olivia did not hear them approach her, one of them snapping his arm around her neck while the other grabbed her waist, pulling her back into the darkness of an abandoned warehouse. She tried to scream, claw and everything else her instincts demanded of her. They threw her to the wall, the force knocking the breath from her lungs. It didn't help her in her efforts to fight back, as everything spun and her mind desperately tried to process that these men undoubtedly intended to kill or rape her. Or both.

One of them spoke in a language she didn't understand, and the other didn't speak at all, but gave curt gestures. The speaking man shoved his forearm against her throat, cutting off her crying. Olivia struggled, but feeling completely immobile and weak had left her a sobbing mess, a ragdoll.

Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She had lived a fairly sheltered life, and the only time the fear of rape ever crossed her mind was from the news stories, and those had made her feel far away from the issue. Admittedly Olivia had grown up under a sense of naivety, but thank God she had grown out of it. Now the threat was all too real, just like the sting of the blade cutting into the skin of her collar.

The one who refused to speak made to grab at her sundress, but she managed enough strength to bring her knee into his groin, momentarily distracting the one pinning her by her neck. She cried through her fleeting moment to scream, the tears blinding her vision. Everything was a blur.

A hiss of steel swung by her ear, and she pulled back into the wall, thinking one of them was striking at her with their knife. But something pulled the weight away from her, and without another thought she fell to the floor, curling her body against the concrete. The tears wouldn't stop.

The sensation of something thick and warm hit her skin. Olivia stilled her breath and lifted her head. Blood stained her dress and blended in with the freckles along her arms. A pool of it grew from under the gashed remains of the one silent attacker. Just above him the other struggled against a long, thin blade, the gold and silver steel cutting through his throat. He choked on his own blood until his body fell limp.

She watched the man standing above her attackers press the bottom of his boot to the other man's neck and delight in the muffled crunch. It was enough to make Olivia bury her head in her arms and shut out everything around her. She refused to open her eyes, to acknowledge the violent man, despite him having just saved her from her assailant's intentions. She felt him approach her, towering over her from what seemed like a terrifying height.

"You're probably the dumbest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Olivia lifted her head and stared up with wide blue eyes.

"On your feet, meisie, you're comin' with me."


	3. Chapter 2

**_AN: Hello hello! I'm glad to hear that some of you are curious as to where this is going. ;) _**

**_I'm going to do my best and update when I can, but with finals approaching and with project re-dos on my plate, I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to post new chapters so quickly. Thank you for understanding!_**

**_And once again I'd like to thank leave your sanity at the door for being an amazing beta and friend. _**

**_Enjoy! _**

* * *

"Will you cut that out?"

Olivia flinched at the man's snarl, but took a deep breath and tried to calm her gasping sobs. The reality of what happened just minutes ago continued to shake her to her core. She was even trembling under his grip, where his hand currently clutched the back of her neck. His hold would surely leave bruises for her to find in the morning.

After she had earlier picked herself up off the warehouse floor, the stranger had pulled her close and had thrown a tattered cloak over them, hiding her away under his arm. He was heavy on her, and now being pinned so close to him made her realize how much larger he was compared to her 5' height.

"Where are we going?" Olivia did not dare look up to him. She hadn't been able to see his eyes, but she imagined they were black like coal and ablaze with adrenaline. It didn't help that he also smelt of smoke and grime. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if he were born of brimstone.

"Home."

Whatever he considered home, Olivia imagined the two of them shared a different view on what it meant.

He kept them in the shadows, weaving through alleys and back streets towards the outer ring of the city. They didn't speak to one another for the rest of their walk. Olivia's mind reeled with questions and with reservations on going home with this man. He may have saved her, but his intentions were still unclear, and the more her mind wandered, the more she was afraid he may try to harm her himself. And she could just forget trying to run from him. Something told her he was used to hunting.

His home was a pitiful excuse for a flat that sat above an abandoned garage. Faded red graffiti tagged the walls and even the debris around it. A light flickered from a neighboring window, and she figured that there were others who were squatting in empty rooms.

He shoved her through the door and followed her up the flight of stairs where the wood creaked under their weight. Olivia rushed, clutching the skirt of her sundress to her thighs to keep his gaze from wandering. Even still she could feel his eyes pinned to her. She enjoyed a moment of freedom before his hand returned to her neck, guiding her towards a door at the end of a short hallway. He threw open the door and elbowed her inside before taking a quick look behind him and locking the deadbolt.

The impression the man's living space left on her was less than impressive. She kept her eyes low to appear impartial to the conditions, but still she scanned her surroundings. He stomped past her, nearly knocking her into a rickety table covered in beer bottles and sweat-stained clothes. He disappeared around a corner, leaving her standing alone in what appeared to be a den.

"Sit." With two beers in hand he returned and gestured to a small chair at the table. He sat across from her, shoving the clothes and the bottles to the floor.

Olivia did as she was told. Her body begged for her to relax, but she couldn't help but wrap her arms around her middle, a gesture of self-preservation. The man ignored her obvious discomfort and cracked open the bottle.

"I've got a question for you, girl." His voice startled her after he had sat there in silence for a moment or two. It was strained, as if he were trying to hold back a temper deep within his chest. And anger, laced with that thick, foreign accent of his (maybe she'd question him about it later), was nothing pleasant. His grip on the neck of the bottle tightened and she imagined it would soon crack under the pressure.

She didn't answer, but instead dared to study him. He was glaring at the wall, his face fixed in a stone-like anger. The cloak had been tossed aside, and now she could see his choppy mop of hair and the details of his weathered appearance. There were bionic implants near his temples and a matching pair just at the corner of his eyes. Those, along with the military fatigues, told her he was serious business, a force to be reckoned with. He surely must be an agent of some kind, a bodyguard. And as she had suspected, his eyes were pure black, unlike anything she had seen before.

Under different circumstances, she would find this man handsome with his beard and slender nose. But as of now, she grew uneasy in his company.

"First," he began, "quit fuckin' lookin' at me like that."

She averted her gaze.

"What I want to know is," he took a swig of the beer and immediately slammed the bottle onto the tabletop, "what the fuck you were doin' out there."

Olivia continued to stare down at the table. "I'm kind of homeless now and—"

He snorted. "'Kind of homeless'... You either are or you're not."

"I am."

"Still doesn't explain what you were doin' out."

_...What? _She figured that had been enough of an excuse to find her lost in the streets of— Oh. Suddenly she understood. He wanted her to admit her faults.

"I got lost."

"Yeah you did. I've seen every sorry bastard around these parts before, but I've never seen you."

Now he was staring her down, and she wished she couldn't see him in the corner of her vision.

"You've either got nerve for wanderin' around in that little number—" he pointed at her red sundress. "Or you really are the dumbest fuckin' thing I've ever seen. Know which one I'm leanin' towards?"

This man had saved her, and for that she was grateful, but his mistreatment of her was not wanted. It was turning her gratitude into bitterness.

"Then why did you even bother with me?" Olivia snapped, for once meeting his harsh stare. Immediately she regretted that decision.

His eyes stayed fixed on her, as if he were hoping she would be set in flames. Finally he looked towards the other beer and grinned. "You made good bait."

She waited for him to explain, as words currently escaped her. He had just called her bait, a silly lure for him to use. After what happened, how dare he?

"Those two fucks you ran into were hackers. And damn good ones, too. I've been trailin' them for weeks. Would have had them too if it weren't for my boys..." He stared at the bottle in his gloved hand for a moment before pointing it towards Olivia, eyebrows raised. A kind enough gesture, but...

"No thanks."

"What, can't handle it?" He chuckled.

"I don't drink much."

"Oh you're going to be fun." He mumbled against the lip of the bottle before finishing and dropping it onto the floor at his feet. "But they've been evadin' me for a while. Figured they were around this shithole somewhere. Then wouldn't you know it, in comes a little rabbit." He threw her a darkly amused look. "Thought you'd be useful enough. You distracted 'em."

"You would have let them rape me just to track them down."

Silence fell between them, and the man didn't bother to answer, but instead stood and began to unfasten the vest from his body.

"In the morning, you better make yourself scarce."


	4. Chapter 3

**_AN: Hello, sweeties! I'm back with a new chapter. Sorry it's been a little while, but finals are just a week away. _**

**_But with my semester coming to a close I have found time to get some writing done. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon!_**

**_I'd like to thank those who have left reviews and continue to follow and read. You're all darlings. _**

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

It was uncertain if Olivia would be able to make it through the night, as she was currently in an unfamiliar environment.

After he had thrown his weapons and armor fatigues aside, he left her alone in the open space of the den. She decided she would rest along the couch, despite the worn fabric and faint stains. Anything was better than being lost in the streets or a corpse in the gutter.

From where Olivia lay, she could hear him stalking around his room. He was silent, but she could hear the faint sound of clothing being thrown aside followed by his belt hitting the floor. She imagined he climbed into bed and settled down for the night. Then the lights went out, and she was left alone in the dark.

For a while she stared at the back of the sofa, not completely registering what was in front of her, but rather being lost in her own whirling thoughts. Where would she go in the morning? During the daylight she would be safe to keep to the main roads and find something accommodating, but when night fell, she would be left without her bearded savior and his blade. She had little to no friends, and there was no way to catch a flight home so soon.

'Become a prostitute,' a sick part of her mind offered. 'Find a whorehouse and beg if you have to.'

'But I don't want that,' she replied. 'I'm a virgin, and the men would tear me apart.'

Rolling over onto her side, Olivia took a chance and glanced into the room where he had disappeared. He was sitting up, back against the wall and a thin sheet thrown over his waist. Her stomach turned when she noticed he was staring her down, jaw tight and a smirk hidden in his wild scruff. Even when she turned to hide her face into the couch she could still see the black of his eyes piercing her mind.

"Go to sleep." she could practically hear his voice rumbling through her own chest.

Somehow she managed to, despite the haunting image of his stare locked behind her eyelids.

When morning came, she stumbled from the couch. Sunlight came streaming in through slips in a ratty black sheet that covered the open window. After hearing the faint sounds of snoring in the bedroom, she was happy that he was still fast asleep.

Grabbing her bag she made for the tiny bathroom in the other corner of the flat, locking the door behind her for good measure. Thank God all that she had she kept on hand in her bag. Unfortunately all her best had been sold off in an attempt to earn money, but at least she had her dress and a few camisoles and shorts. They were enough.

Olivia pulled the dress over her head and looked over the rips in the fabric. The dried blood had blended into the red dye, but she'd try and wash it whenever she could. After she wiggled into her new outfit, she took a brush to her hair, trying to add some volume to the dirty mop of short red locks. It was useless, and she had no time to bathe. She was filthy, and the feeling of dust and grime clinging to her skin and under her nails made her ache for warm water.

When she caught her reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink (the crude impact of broken glass was indication enough that he had become violent in the close quarters) she stopped and stared back at her reflection. Olivia was no natural beauty. Her freckled face, still round with baby fat, left her feeling less like her age and more like a child. It didn't help with her short stature and plump body, either. She thanked good genetics for her large breasts and round hips, but not so much everything in between. Another reason to abandon the whorehouse plan, she figured.

She threw her bag over her shoulder and swung open the door, only to be greeted by the stranger lingering in his bedroom door. He must have just woken up, judging by his disheveled hair and the squint of his eyes. And—oh. Olivia averted her eyes and tried to ignore the blush creeping across her face. A man had a right to walk around naked in his own home, but at least he could try and remember he wasn't alone. She had to remind herself that this man seemed to carry no decency about him.

When he didn't bother to shout at her for still being in his home, she stood surprised. She watched him turn his steely gaze from her to the kitchen as he straightened up and strutted across the room. Even when he had just woken up, he still managed to assert himself the way a pure alpha would.

"I wanted to thank you," she piped up after he disappeared through the doorway.

No reply, but she could hear him shuffling and raiding through cabinets. A man needed his coffee, she presumed.

Tiptoeing to peek around the corner, she eyed the back of his head. Anything to keep her eyes from raking down his backside. He hovered over a dirty coffee pot, shoving it under the faucet and staring down as it filled with hot water.

Finally he spoke up. "You owe me," his voice came from somewhere low in his chest.

She nodded. "Okay."

"What's your name, girly?"

"Olivia."

He turned and eyed her tiny form, appearing to be memorizing her. "I'll be waitin'," he grumbled and returned to his brew.

Something about that troubled Olivia down to her core. Obviously a man like him would be the type to remember when someone was indebted to him, and he would find any means to be repaid.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What _about_ me?"

"I don't know your name."

Throwing his head back, the man took several deep gulps of pure black coffee from the pot, shaking his shaggy hair afterwards as if the drink had shot a jolt of warm electricity down his spine.

"Ah, ain't nothin' like it," he sighed, dragging his hairy forearm across his mouth and giving her another look, "It's Kruger."

Olivia nodded.

"Now get out," Kruger made for the rest of his beverage and mumbled against the brim of the pot, "Before I decide to keep you."

Not really sure what he meant by that (yet certainly sure she wasn't supposed to hear him at all), she made for the door. She wanted to ask him where she should go, what should she do. But she had a feeling the only reply she would receive would be a "That's not my fuckin' problem." And the last thing she needed from him was attitude.

* * *

Being homeless in Los Angeles was already nothing new. People begged on street corners all hours of the day, and most of them managed to earn less than a few throws of spare change. No one had money to spare.

Olivia did not beg from others. Instead she stayed behind restaurant alleys, scrounging for scraps and even managing to keep herself safe at night by sleeping outside the hospital. At least there she knew no one would harm her there, tucked in the alleyway between the fence and the infirmary walls. She had found worn bedding and nestled herself into a corner where she could lie in the shadows and out of view. This had been her life for the past few weeks, and she wasn't proud of it, but at least she was alive.

In the back of her mind she figured Kruger had forgotten her. She had been in his life for one night and had left it the next morning. A strange part of her wanted him to remember, while the other begged he had moved on.

She found him one day out in the streets, skulking around and parting through the crowd like a shark through a school of fish. Hunting, perhaps, she wasn't sure. It wasn't until he passed by when she noticed he wasn't alone.

Two equally well-built men trailed after him, talking loudly above the crowd. As they were dressed in the same fatigues as Kruger, she figured they were probably a team, and judging by their inflection, they were all of the same nationality. Shit, she had forgotten to ask him about that accent.

Keeping a tight grip on her bag she snuck into the mass and followed them up the dusty streets.

"Crowe," she heard Kruger pipe up after he had been silent for the past few minutes. The bald man to his left perked up. "You're payin' for all this."

The other man seemed to get a kick out of this and received a quick blow to his bicep, courtesy of Crowe.

She stopped following them once she watched the three of them make a beeline into one of the more infamous cathouses Los Angeles had to offer. She would never judge someone for their desires, and it was understandable that men such as themselves needed to have their needs catered to, but for some reason that Olivia wasn't comfortable with addressing, she felt a sickening wave of envy roll over her. He owed her nothing, least of all his attention.


	5. Chapter 4

_**AN: Ahhh, with finals behind me, I am at peace. Sorry it's been a while since the last update, dearies. **_

_**I continue to thank my friends and readers for their help and their encouragement and kind words. **_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

If the harsh city life didn't kill Olivia first, then the summer sun surely would.

The people seemed to be thankful for whenever clouds hovered over their heads. Rain was a gift, and she didn't feel so bad when she joined the children and danced in the downpour. She always loved the rain. A popular story from her mother was where she gave birth to her bouncing baby during a furious thunderstorm. She even liked to joke that somehow Olivia had managed to capture the storm in the gray of her blue eyes. Even if it was ridiculous, she liked to think of it as a compliment.

Today she ran through the rain, ducking under market awnings when she could. Despite her efforts to keep dry, her hair curled, stuck to her flushed cheeks, and her clothes clung uncomfortably to her body. She sat at a table under a bar's canopy and asked a tattooed waiter for water. "You're soaking in it," the young man laughed, but still brought her a cup and left her to sit alone.

It had been a week or so since she had last seen Kruger, but it had been only minutes since he crossed her mind. The rogue left a gnawing impression on her, one that sought to consume her. When she slept she saw his eyes, and when she was clumsy she heard him chastise her, often calling her 'stupid and weak.'

_Why him_, she wondered.

The answer came when she dreamt of him, coming at her as naked and primal as a wild man would. He didn't touch her, but just observed her like she were prey. She only felt his touch through his eyes, and it was so startlingly erotic that she woke up in a fever, her body tingling in places only her own hands had touched.

Olivia became fascinated with Kruger because he was everything she had been taught against. To experience him would be like tasting something foreign. There was so much in him to explore, but would she allow herself to get close enough?

The streets were empty, save for a few wandering dogs and a neighbor or two. No one wanted to bother in this kind of weather, except for a couple hurriedly making their way through the downpour. As they grew near, she could make out Kruger's weathered face peeking out from behind his burlap cloak. He was pulling along a young woman, brunette and tall, who didn't seem to enjoy his hand snatched around her upper arm. Olivia looked away, hiding behind her hair.

Ignoring the nauseous feeling in her gut, Olivia watched the two leave her line of sight. She assumed he would take her to his home and fuck her until he was satisfied. Judging by his scowl, the woman would be treated roughly and maybe come out with bruises and red hickeys. She blushed as the image of the woman's lean body morphed into her own, littered with imprints of bites and handprints reddening her naked skin.

"Are you okay?" The waiter startled her.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're a little red in the face."

"Fever," she lied.

* * *

A bit surprised she could tell the difference between each and every dirty street, Olivia ducked into the doorway of the structure Kruger decided to call home. The door swung back on its spring and smacked her bottom, as if the filthy place was welcoming her back. But she missed it like a rabbit missed their burrow, surprisingly. Even if it had been weeks since she last ran down these steps, the creak under her was familiar. Hopefully she wouldn't disturb them during their rendezvous.

The woman stumbled from Kruger's door as if she had been thrown from the inside. Hair teased and bright red lipstick smeared, she had obviously been manhandled.

"I don't get paid enough for this asshole," she hissed as she fumed by, shoving a handful of bills into her bag.

Olivia felt some reservations about knocking on Kruger's door, but she had come this far and couldn't afford to spend another night struggling to keep alive. The decision was up to her. Either offer herself to him for work, or end up working to offer herself in ways she felt too disgusted to imagine.

When she did knock, it was followed by something being thrown to the floor and storming footsteps approaching her. As he came closer she could fully hear grumbling through the chipped wood.

"I fuckin' gave you enough, ya bitch, what more can you want—" Kruger threw the door open and seemed to fill the frame. She took note of how his anger seemed to bring life to that strange accent she still wanted to ask him about. But it was also important to note that she would want to avoid riling that same anger altogether.

Olivia stared up meekly at the burly man and wrung her hands around the strap of her bag. The last time she had been here, he had been completely naked without any concern for her presence. Now, he might as well be bare to her again, considering the only clothing on him were the shorts hugging his upper thighs. He must have just finished with her, as he was flushed and still breathing through his nose. As soon as he had flung open the door the heat seemed to radiate off of him, making her uncomfortable under her own clothes.

Seeing him like this after what she guessed must have been quite a good fucking made something twist within her. Her body shook, but with either arousal or apprehension she couldn't tell.

"Well well," he looked her over once before leaning to give a quick glance down the hall. "There's a face I haven't seen."

"Can I talk to you?"

"I don't know, girly," he cocked his head and scratched at his jaw. "Can you?"

Licking her lips, she bit back her urge to snap. "I came all this way—"

"Oh I'm sure it was a journey from the back alley to my front door."

Of course this man would be able to run circles around her all day with his quick retorts. He held the advantage with his intimidating presence alone. Olivia took a moment to ponder her next move, but before she could realize it, her body had willed itself to duck past him and take quick steps into the room. Like an animal backed into a corner she seemed to act on instinct without second thought. His eyes followed her over to the table where he had questioned her just weeks ago. He didn't seem to be cross at her suddenly forcing herself into his home, but instead seemed amused by her moxie.

The door closed, and the slip of his fingers locking the deadbolt did not go unnoticed. No doubt he had made sure she saw the lock turn, and was quiet enough to allow her to hear the click echo across the room. If things turned sour, there was no way she'd be leaving here alive. Olivia breathed in a shaky breath and waited for him to join her at the table. He smiled to himself as he pulled back the chair and threw his feet atop the wood.

"So start talkin'."

"I want to make you an offer."

"You said you wanted to talk, not make deals."

He did it again, catching her in a corner. She sat up to pretend she felt confident in her words. At least she had rehearsed scenario after scenario in her head the entire walk here.

"I want to talk to you about what I owe you."

That shut him up, and he fixed those menacing black eyes on her.

"If you let me stay here, I'll clean for you." When he said nothing, she pressed on. "I'll cook, I'll clean...I'll do errands. I'll do anything—"

"Anything?" The smug smile returned to his face. "You sure about that? Might want to choose your words more carefully."

Fuck, what a horrible time for the images she had been fantasizing of to flash across her mind. Her eyes fell to his hands, but as soon as she felt a ghost-like touch on her thigh she looked away. "I just can't be back on the streets again. I can't."

"What, it didn't toughen your tits?" Kruger laughed, reaching down to his side for a beer. When she didn't laugh along with him, he threw back the bottle and let the humor fall from his face. "I don't need a maid."

"I don't know what else to give you."

"I doubt that." He snapped, eyes trailing below her face.

Despite her lust for Kruger, she wasn't completely oblivious to the idea that he would somehow hurt her. The fantasy versus the reality of the beast sitting across from her was a conflict worth questioning.

Olivia took a deep breath and pleaded. "Please. I'll try to find work. I'll give you my pay. I don't care."

They fell silent while she waited for an answer. She could hear the rain had stopped, and children were shouting at one another in the street below. A sliver of sunlight slipped between one of the dark tattered sheets that covered the window. The heat would return tonight, and if she was denied and put back in the alley—

"You ever heard of The Black Cat?"

She shook her head.

"Why would you, it's a strip joint in town. Not a place for you to really wander into. I know a guy. He'll put you to work. And maybe I'll get a lap dance out of it." He chuckled and threw back his head to finish the beer.

Olivia worried what kind of work he meant, but she would save that worry for another time. "Does this mean I can stay?"

"Better get started on cooking my dinner, eh?"

She felt her eyes widen. Normally she would feel compelled to throw herself at someone who showed her compassion, but she remembered whom she was dealing with and kept her place in her seat. Still, she felt a smile tugging at her lips. "What would you like?"

Kruger stood and from this higher angle seemed to stare down the collar of her shirt. Olivia didn't bother to outwardly acknowledge this, as her newly twisted side wanted his full attention. "Stew. And you better stay in the kitchen until you're done. I've got something to take care of," he fixed her with his piercing stare and then disappeared into the tiny bathroom, locking the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 5

_**AN: Things are getting tense...**_

_**I'd like to thank **_**leave your sanity at the door**_** and **_**InvisibleRanger**_** for this chapter especially. You both are darlings.**_

_**Violence and a bit of gore in this chapter. Reviews are appreciated!**_

* * *

Olivia was expected to be awake before the sun. Her morning routine consisted of dashing around the corner, out of sight and into the kitchen, to change before Kruger could wake and catch her in nothing but her top and panties. The coffee was the first thing to be ready, and when he would shuffle into the kitchen, the boiling of the water was the thing to snap him awake. Breakfast, when he took it, was usually sausage and eggs, preferably scrambled into one mass to heap onto his plate. Who knew he would have such particular tastes.

After living under his roof for a week, she still wasn't used to the hours he stayed gone. She never knew where he went or why he bothered to venture out into the heat of the day, but she didn't want to pry. Kruger's life was his own business, not hers. She merely lived in it.

When he did leave, he left without a word, never giving her an indication of where he was going or when he would return. One night she prepared his dinner and he did not return until the early hours of the morning, stumbling in drunk and muttering under his breath. The meal went cold and her work had been for naught, and Kruger didn't care. He collapsed into his bed and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was snoring, a harsh sound. Olivia threw the food out into the streets for the dogs to feed on and allowed herself some rest.

One morning he spoke through shoveling his food into his mouth. "I'm taking you to the Black Cat today."

She merely swallowed her worries and nodded.

The Black Cat was located at least 20 minutes of a walking distance away. While it wasn't one of the more glamorous and high-dollar strip clubs, the popularity made it well-known. The neon lights were a complete waste during the day, but still they flashed in mute colors around a curvy rendering of a black cat with a pink collar. Tasteful.

Despite being one of the cheaper clubs, Olivia found the inside to be luxurious enough (or at least the place was masked enough) to please its patrons. Smooth black stages and a long chain of curtains fashioned around each one's entrance. Things were surprisingly clean, even the bar.

Kruger kept his hand at her back, shoving her towards the long stretch of bar to their very left. The man behind the counter was large, but in a way that reminded her of her father; built enough to show who stayed in charge, but seemed approachable.

"There's a familiar face," the bartender smiled and threw his rag over his shoulder. "And a new one."

Without Kruger's approval Olivia reached over the counter and shook the man's hand. She lived by a certain principle: stay friendly whenever possible. "I'm Olivia."

"I'm Markus," he looked from her to Kruger. "She the one you called me about?"

"Yah. She needs to be put to work." He sounded as if he had better things to do, as if her paying him in her wage still wasn't enough of a winning deal.

"Right, right. Well little lady, can you dance?"

Olivia felt the color run to her cheeks. "N-No, I don't dance." Please for the love of God, don't put me on the stage, she prayed. "I don't think anyone would be interested in seeing that," she added under her breath.

Kruger gave a hum of what sounded like disapproval, but she ignored him.

"Maybe she could work with the girls in the back?" Markus suggested. "You a virgin?"

Immediately she could feel Kruger's eyes on her, waiting with interest to hear the reveal. If she lied, she guessed she'd be made to prostitute herself, something she wished to avoid. If she told him the truth, the big beast would know, and at the moment she had no idea how she would feel with him knowing she was untouched. Maybe the truth would work to her advantage and she could one day find herself in Kruger's bed, a fantasy she wasn't sure was worth the trouble just yet.

"Yeah, I am."

Hearing Kruger inhale behind her made her wonder just what was going through his mind right now.

Markus seemed to mull this information over, but before he could say a word, Kruger spoke up.

"Make her a waitress."

"She'd be worth a lot more if I put her in the back—"

"Waitress." He spoke as if his word was final, and in this case, both she and Markus knew it was. "Dress her up or make her walk around naked for all I care, but she's a waitress and nothing more. Understood?"

"You got it, man. When can you start, Olivia?"

"She'll be here tomorrow."

Kruger seemed to enjoy treating her like a piece of property, and she knew she had no power to fight it. This must be what he considered part of her deal.

The entire walk home consisted of silence between the two. This gave her plenty of time to wonder why he saved her from spreading her legs for anyone who paid enough. What had sparked his decision to keep her away from that fate? Something felt suspicious, but she couldn't tell whether to be concerned or hopeful about where this would eventually lead her. Markus even mentioned how much more he'd receive if she whored herself. Kruger didn't seem like a man who was overly concerned with funds, judging by his living arrangement and the upkeep of his home. No, this was a man who enjoyed other things, things that didn't heavily involve monetary profit. The way his fingers twitched and the way his body stayed in a near constant state of tension gave him away.

While she may have been thankful for him sparing her from selling herself, she knew better than to not fear him.

* * *

The day she came to truly fear Kruger started with a sunny morning where the pedestrians bustled through the street to get to the markets and to work. Olivia parted the tear in the black sheet and peered out, enjoying the breeze caressing her cheek.

"Get away from the window."

She spun around and felt herself shrink under Kruger's glare. He had at least been awake for an hour or so, but didn't bother to speak to her until now. He was dressed in his fatigues, but not fully armored.

"Do you want me to fix another pot of coffee?" Maybe she could appease him with the disgusting drink.

"No. I want you to shut up and make sure the door's locked."

He moved across the room and slipped into the bathroom, just cracking the door enough to allow himself in. She noticed him coming and going from the tiny room for the past few days, but she dismissed it as his 'Krugerness.' Doing as she was told, she checked the door's locks and even fastened the extra he kept just out of her reach, standing on her tip toes to secure it.

She heard the bathroom door open, his footsteps storm over to the table by the window, and then something heavy fall into a chair. When she turned, she froze on the spot.

Kruger gripped the bleeding shoulder of a man shaking in the chair. When he gave the man a squeeze, he jerked and screamed behind the gag forced between his teeth. There was a line of wire wrapped tight around his thick wrists, cutting into his skin and surely burrowing its way deeper into his flesh whenever he struggled.

Her lips parted to speak, but it was physically impossible to find the words.

"Come 'ere and sit with us," he nodded to the chair across from him, refusing to take his stare off of the wounded man. "And be a good girl for me and keep quiet, understood?" When he did turn to address her, he fixed her with a stare that clearly read if she didn't do as she was told, there would be hell to pay.

While Olivia found the willpower to cross the room and join him at the table, Kruger kept his hand firmly on the captive while the other reached for something hitched to his belt. "Mike here has something that I want. But he's been a fuckin' problem for me for a while now."

When she looked towards the thug, she noticed the multiple nicks and cuts on his hands and up his arms. There were even faint pink scars on his fingers. They weren't self-inflicted, as the reach of the random pattern of scars stretched up where he would have been unable to bend. She realized who exactly cut up this man when Kruger flicked open a military-issued knife. Her father owned one just like it. Obviously Kruger had been spending time slicing away at him.

"But I've lost my playful mood, and today is Mike's last chance to tell me what I need to know." His onyx eyes switched from the man's paling face to her own. She didn't return the look and continued to stare at the few gashes that had been left open to bleed and surely become infected.

Kruger whipped off the dirty rag from the man's mouth. He immediately choked on the air, breathing it in too quickly.

"Why don't you tell the lady here what it is I want, boet?" The smile working its way through Kruger's beard was jovial, and he shook as if he were holding back a laugh. Even his jaw was locked tight. This man's pain amused him, yes, but there was also an underlying anger behind that shit-eating grin.

"I told you I don't know—"

The blade poised for the ready in Kruger's gloved fist came down and nearly impaled the thug's wrist. Olivia's hands flew to her lips to contain a scream, but there was no sound, only the twisting pain in her throat. She wanted to look away, but seeing something so grotesque right before her eyes was fascinating in a way that made her cringe.

"It's easy for me to spot a liar, ya know." For a moment the smug smile slipped from Kruger's face. "And if I hear another out of you, I _will_ cut that fat neck of yours."

The man's eyes flickered to Olivia, but she could offer him nothing. She mentally put the pieces of this encounter together.

For a week now, she had been living under Kruger's roof, and all that time, this man had been here, right under her nose. When Kruger accepted her offer, he had locked himself away in the bathroom and only reemerged when she knocked on the door and informed him his supper was ready. He had been keeping him stowed away in the tub, bound and gagged and left to bleed out. For a week now, Kruger kept a prisoner in his own home. When she asked him why he kept the bathroom door locked at all times, he'd bark at her and tell her to go downstairs if she needed something. There was another bathroom below if she needed it, and since he continually refused to explain why he'd make her go down, she needed it often. She obeyed without question, just like he knew she would, although she did suspect something was amiss. While she was oddly grateful for the earlier secrecy, he was now throwing her head first into his world, a world she may not be ready to experience so soon.

"I'm a busy man. I've got deadlines to meet and a bitch to kiss up to." Grabbing hold of the knife's handle Kruger gave the weapon a twist, earning a long and pained groan from the thug. "And I need you to tell me what you know."

Olivia sat straight in her seat, eying the knife still grasped in Kruger's fist. At any second he could whip it from the man's arm and stab it anywhere he pleased. She silently prayed it would be the table this time instead of his body.

Mike seemed to struggle with what exactly he wanted to reveal. He licked his lips and winced at the pain that was undeniably surging through his body. Olivia figured he must have been deciding on whether revealing his secrets would either end his suffering or still bring him into hellish agony. Or maybe death was the only way out.

"There's gonna be an exchange," he started, trying to take even breaths. "9 guys...one of them has the dealer's name—I don't know which one—and I swear that's all they told me about it..."

Olivia waited for Kruger's next move, and it seemed Mike was doing the same.

"They don't tell me anything, man...Fuckin' pricks cut me out and I end up with nothin'..."

This seemed to please him, as he pulled on the blade and plucked it from the man's wrist. Mike clenched his teeth, but seemed thankful to have the damned thing dislodged.

"Now see, that wasn't so hard, eh?" Kruger moved around Mike and gave his wounded shoulder a hard clap. "Honesty is the best policy, I always say."

Olivia looked to Mike's relieved and smiling face before he was hauled to his feet and panicking under Kruger's strong grip. "W-What are you doing!?" He was ignored by the bigger man and with a shove he fell into the bathroom. "I told you what I know!"

What followed was another plea, the sound of a struggle, and then the unsettling split second of silence just before a strangled and gurgled cry. Olivia found herself standing and staring at the open door, watching Kruger's shadow looming in the entryway. She could hear him grunting over the thick and muffled sound of his blade hacking through what she could only imagine as the thug's neck. It continued even as she felt the bile stinging in her throat. She had to lie down, to cover her ears and block out the noise. Once she heard something heavy hit the floor, she felt her eyes roll and her head spin. God, just make it stop.

Backing away with nausea away from the door, Olivia fell onto the couch. As she shut her eyes tight and listened to her own sobbing, she could imagine herself standing over him, watching Kruger kill and grin as he worked. She could see the blood pooling in the tub's basin and swirling down the drain, and the blood all over him, matted in his beard and on his hands. He'd lick the copper taste from his lips and delight in the carnage, all while she looked on without a sound.

Her body was trembling, shaking with the force of her quiet and sharp-breathed weeping. _What the fuck did she get herself into? _Common sense screamed at her to run far away from this, but immediately she could see him hunting her down and tearing her apart in whatever way he could. All her thoughts were scrambled. She continued to shake in her seat, too afraid to think.

"Shhhh."

Olivia froze at the sensation of bloodied fingers petting her hair. She didn't move as Kruger continued to coo over her.

"You stayed quiet for me," he whispered, and she decided then and there that surely must be more terrifying than hearing any level of anger. It was almost affectionate, but there was that edge that told her otherwise. "Just like a good girl."

When she didn't reply, he released her hair and she listened to his heavy footsteps return to the bathroom. At the sound of the door slamming after him, Olivia released her bottom lip from between her teeth and openly began to cry.


	7. Chapter 6

_**AN: Please forgive me for the slight delay, sweeties! I was in the party of my cousin's wedding and it's a wonder I can remember a thing, thanks to the fact we only stayed for one full day and spent a total of 20 hours driving to and from states. I feel the 4 glasses of champagne helped soothe it all, though.**_

_**I'm very excited about where this story is heading, and I'd like to thank my friends **_Invisible Ranger_** and **_leave your sanity at the door_** who continue to be great and very encouraging.**_

* * *

The morning Kruger killed Mike also became the day she met Drake and Crowe.

While Olivia continued to cry on the couch, Kruger had ran his hands under the kitchen sink's faucet, shaking off the now watered down blood. When the door shook violently from knocking, she stopped, looking from him to the doorway.

"What is it?" he called out.

"It's us, boss."

She watched from her safe place on the sofa as Kruger let in the two brutes she had seen following after him weeks ago. If they were cleaned up, both would be good-looking men. They conversed with Kruger, gesturing towards the bathroom and laughing at how Mike's demise unfolded. Watching the three of them reminded Olivia of a group of neighborhood boys she once knew. Dirty and uncouth, the only thing they were missing being the dead frog the boys had chased after her with.

It was the one with the dark mohawk that spotted her first. Interrupting the other's laughter, he gestured to her.

"Who's the girl?"

Still grinning, Kruger lead the two across the room to the arm of the couch where Olivia pushed herself from her seat and wiped away at her teary eyes.

"She the one you told us about?" The other with the shaved head gave her a look over, sizing her up.

"Yah. This is the little rabbit," Kruger laughed.

"S-Sorry, I've been crying." She gestured to the reddening around her eyes. "I'm Olivia." No matter who these two were, even if they did work for a man like Kruger, she wanted to be polite. There would be no use in having an attitude or getting on their bad sides.

"Drake," the scruffy-faced one gave a nod.

"Crowe," the other mirrored him. She remembered him, the one who had to pay for their time at the whorehouse weeks ago.

"Why've you been cryin'?" Drake asked, surprising her.

Before she could answer, Kruger cut in. "She saw the mess I made."

The three of them stepped into the bathroom, barely managing their way inside, and observed the aftermath and the remains of Mike. Olivia swallowed down the bile in her throat and looked elsewhere.

"Christ," she heard Crowe exclaim.

"He's been a pain in my arse for weeks, boet," Kruger shot back, as if that explained his right to tear the man apart.

"Be a bit easier to get 'im into the bags now, eh?" Drake chimed in before looking back to Olivia, who now reclaimed her seat on the couch. He looked as if to say something, but chose not to and turned back to his comrades.

"Right. Okay girly," Kruger fixed her with a hard stare. "Once we get him out of there, you're gonna clean that up, understand?"

Her eyes widened. Of course he would make her do this. He might as well snatch her by her hair and shove her face into the bloodied floor. But she had sworn to do as he wanted. She nodded and made for the kitchen to try to find something to help. Rummaging through the cabinets, she listened to them shove the thug's remains into black garbage bags. To anyone who might see them, they would dismiss the three of them as being gentleman taking out the trash, unless they would notice the dark spotty trail that would follow.

When the door slammed behind them, she grabbed a dusty bottle of bleach and a bar of soap that had been thrown to the back of a drawer. Grabbing one of her shirts, she fashioned it around her head and over her nose and mouth, anything to keep the smell from being too overbearing. As she cleaned, down on all fours and scrubbing hard, she felt the tears well in the corners of her eyes once again. Here she was, a young woman wanting to run home and cry into her mother's lap, but instead living with a murderer who found enjoyment out of toying with her.

She continued to cry until her eyes were sore, and she fell into bed along the couch before Kruger returned home.

* * *

The next day Olivia awoke before the sun. Sleep-deprived and stumbling to throw on her clothes, she felt her body pushing itself to its limits. Every time she closed her eyes, praying sleep would take her, she saw the thug's blood mixing with the rust of the drain and suddenly the strong copper smell was all too real. Thanks to Kruger and his little display, she was shaken by fear throughout the rest of the day and into the evening. With maybe an hour of sleep under her belt, work would kick her ass. But she welcomed anything that would take her away from him.

Markus was the first to comment on her weary expression. She dismissed it to him as a bad nightmare that had kept her up and made to clean the tables. Maybe when the regulars arrived later in the day their ruckus would keep her awake.

Working at the Black Cat was surprisingly entertaining. While she could do without the leers and the grabby hands, waitressing was easy enough. The men paid her no mind when she passed around drinks and orders while the girls were busy wiggling their ass on the stage. Luckily Markus wasn't the kind of man who would embarrass her by bowing to Kruger's passing comment about having her serve in the nude. Her uniform, a simple lavender button up and black jean shorts, kept her feeling safe from attention. Sure, the black heels that came along with the outfit didn't help tone down the sex appeal, and yes, they were hell to walk in, but Olivia did feel a surge of confidence when she wove through the crowd of tables.

"So what's your deal with the big man, eh?" Markus interrupted her humming, wiping glasses behind the bar. "Dodgy guy to be hanging around..."

"He saved me a few weeks ago."

That seemed to throw him off. "No kidding?"

"I promise you it wasn't on purpose," Olivia scoffed, wringing her rag and moving to another table. "He called me bait."

"Now that sounds more like it."

"So I owed him. Now I'm cleaning, cooking...working here to get him some easy cash. I don't mind," she shrugged.

"You know, if you ever want to talk shit about him to get something off your chest, don't hesitate. I'm not pals with the bastard. I won't tell." Markus gave her a smile, a genuine one that she hadn't seen in what felt like years.

She could tell him about everything that happened the day before, rat him out and—no. A chill ran up Olivia's spine as she considered how truly trapped she felt. Kruger had become her means of protection, her safety, as sick as that sounded given who he was and what he had done. If taken away from her, she'd be right back where she started, and she didn't know Markus enough to depend on him. Sure he was nice, but nowadays she grew suspicious of everyone.

"Thanks," she returned with a tight smile and resumed her cleaning. Even if she was far from him, she could feel Kruger's shadow looming over her throughout the rest of her shift.

When the sun began to set over the dilapidated towers of downtown Los Angeles, her workday came to an end. Olivia weaved her way through the crowd still pouring in through the double doors and disappeared behind the counter. Tired as she was, the thought of returning to her new home left an unsavory taste in her mouth that just so happened to taste like bitter copper.

"You gonna be okay?" God knows how many times Markus had asked her that over the course of the day.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just going to stop by the market on the way home. I'm gonna make an attempt at getting some peace."

He chuckled. While he may not have liked Kruger, it seemed like Markus knew enough about him. She felt certain the two had a past. "Good luck with that."

Upon arriving home, Olivia threw her bag to the floor and allowed her heels to click click clack across the floorboards so Kruger could be fully aware she was home and still wore her 'confidence shoes.' Until now he had never seen her in her uniform, since this happened to be the first time he was home and not away for hours or days on end. He emerged from the rooftop in nothing but his boots and the shorts she had come to love. It seemed like no matter the weather, he enjoyed strutting about the apartment in nothing but those shorts that reminded her of her old high school gym classes. She'd bet money that none of the boys could ever manage to look as good as he did in them. The way they fit his hard physique left her heart pounding in her ears.

Before he could even make a crack at her clothes, she lifted the case of beer in her hand and placed it on the table. "I have some questions." Her throat felt tight as she spoke. If she wanted some kind of peace, she would have to put on a face and put aside her timid nature just for now.

He eyed the case before returning to her, and she could practically feel herself burning under his stare. "Please," she quickly added.

Without a word he crossed the room, like an animal suspicious of a trap. He jerked back the chair at the head of the table and sat.

Olivia took a seat to his left, adjusting her shorts as they rode up her thighs.

"You gonna wear that around here?"

"It's my work uniform."

The admiring hum that rumbled from his chest sent a tremor right to her core. She figured that even despite her looks a man could gaze at her and find the tight-fitting clothes appealing.

Pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, she placed them by the beer. Kruger's brows knit together, and the vexed look working across his face could only mean he was growing a bit testy.

"How'd you know?" He snatched the pack and plucked one from the group. Immediately he flicked open a lighter that he seemed to pull from thin air.

"It's strong. It's all over your clothes when I do the wash...along with a lot of blood," she trailed off, thinking of the amounts of dried stains on his fatigues.

"...And?"

She had guessed he would treat the evidence so indifferently, but she pressed on, her throat still tight. "What does that mean?"

His now growing smile did nothing to ease her nerves. "What do you think it means?"

"You killed Mike—"

"So you noticed, eh?" he chuckled at his own wit. Snapping open one of the cans, he swallowed nearly half and licked his lips.

"—which means you kill people. It's your job, isn't it?"

"Sounds like you already know the answer to that."

Never in a million years would she be able to match his quick wit. Olivia readied herself with more questions.

"I want to know who you are. I want to know what kind of job keeps you gone for days at a time, makes you kill a man—"

"One at a time, girly."

The edge of temper in his voice told her to back down. She apologized and he continued.

"You ever been to Elysium?"

The torus in the sky? Never. Long before she was born, the station had been hovering above earth's atmosphere. She learned everything about it and the consequences that followed its creation—including the world's decline—during her years of schooling. At one point, her parents wanted to believe they could save their funds to earn themselves a home on Elysium's lush grounds, but they understood they would never live to see the day. Even she didn't have any dreams of reaching the station. Reserved for the wealthy and those in power, Elysium sat out of reach.

"Stupid question. No you haven't." Kruger brushed the can to the floor and took another puff of the cigarette. "You've heard of the CCB, yeah?"

"No." If she had to guess, the acronym must refer to some elite organization. Maybe the public on Earth wasn't aware of what it was either.

"Not gonna waste my time explaining it to you." He jabbed his chest with his thumb. "But I'm a sleeper agent. Mercenary, if you prefer the old stuff."

This explained the hackers he had taken care of back in the warehouse, and Mike, who, despite giving Kruger the information he had so badly wanted, wound up dead and bleeding out in the tub. Taking care of targets that got in his way, Kruger was paid to kill, to be an animal. So her initial first impression wasn't far off; he worked as a bodyguard of sorts. Now this answered the others she had ready for him. Missions took him away from home, sending him wherever to take care of whatever nasty business stood in the CCB's way. Ultimately, Kruger was nothing more than an attack dog, and if he saw fit, then anything and everything could be gnashed between his teeth.

"You're lookin' a little pale there," he chuckled. "Don't let me scare you."

The toothy grin spreading across his face did not put her at ease. She couldn't tell when he was being humorous or just trying to fuck with her head.

"C'mon, ask me another." He leaned forward, as if genuinely interested.

"Where are you from?"

Kruger smirked. "The accent's been drivin' you crazy, hasn't it?"

"No, I like it." The words left her lips before she had time to stop it.

He paused, the rim of his second beer resting on his lips. "Is that so." His eyes left hers, looking off to another corner of the house as if in thought. Surely this would be used as blackmail against her, an advantage to keep her right where he wanted her.

"From South Africa. You know where that is?"

"Yes."

"Heard of Joburg?" When she gave him a puzzled stare, he rolled his eyes and put on a mocking tone, as if he thought she was dense for not catching on. "Sorry, Johannesburg?"

She nodded, remembering old history books mentioning the location and the crime wave that eventually overtook it.

"Me and my boys were practically born in the bush. I've seen my fair share of shit. Little girls like you wouldn't last out there, ya know."

Olivia nodded.

"How old do you think I am?"

If working for the CCB and in turn working for Elysium, he had to be kept alive, kept healthy and available. The powerful and wealthy had access to technology that earth wasn't allowed to have. Here there were still hospitals, overcrowded with the sick and injured, but on Elysium, the medbays kept its citizens alive and in perfect condition. In order to keep Kruger in action, they would have to keep him preserved through time.

"I'm not sure."

"Guess."

"...At least 100."

"Good girl," he finished off the second can.

Olivia began putting the pieces of Kruger together. For decades he's been used as a weapon, hunting and killing as he pleased and paid to do it, no less. Whoever held his leash had no consideration for his reckless behavior and its effect on others. If anyone up there were to catch word of Olivia, they would laugh and call her a plaything to keep him occupied while he waited on his chain. She breathed deep, tempted to reach across the table and snatch one of the beers for herself. She hated the taste, but God if she didn't feel like some alcohol may help right now.

"Anything else?" He snatched the plastic rings around the rack of beer and stuffed the cigarettes in the waistband of his shorts.

"No," she heard her voice squeak. "That's it."

"Not so hard now, was it? Ole Kruger's not such a bad guy, eh?" He spoke with a new cigarette between his lips.

Ignorance is bliss, she thought bitterly. No, she knew he was fully aware of his actions, and that he reveled in how this all made her head spin.

"C'mere."

Olivia rose from her chair to stand before him. With her heels still on her feet, she stood at Kruger's throat, whereas normally she would be face to face with his furred chest.

Without a word he tugged the collar to her top aside, running his thumb over and under the silk strap of her black bra. Her skin instantly blushed across her chest and under his touch. He seemed lost in thought, and Olivia could not think of anything to get him away, not that she wanted that. Despite his ill-treatment of her and having watched him cut a man's throat, she could not deny that she desperately wanted Kruger. She liked to consider herself a woman of morals, but his mere existence threw it all out the window without a second thought.

"They touch you when you're wearing this, don't they?" He spoke low, his voice arousing her.

She considered the few men at the Black Cat who had given her a pat as she would walk away. She figured any man would do this, drunk or not. "Yeah."

"Hm. You don't like it, do you?"

"I can't stand it."

"Why's that?"

'_Because it's not you,'_ she thought. Even after today's revelations she still craved him. Olivia raised her eyes to his. His smug smile wanted to hear her say it, but she wouldn't give him that, not yet.

"I don't want people touching me."

At that, he slid his hand up the back of her neck, brushing through the fine red hairs. The pure heat that radiated from his touch alone made her wet. Of all the men in the world, it had to be him. All the images of her dreams and fantasies of him flashed in the back of her mind.

"I don't think that's true."

His hand slipped away and he made for the rooftop, beers still swinging at his side.

As soon as his shadow disappeared, she ran for the bathroom, throwing open the door. Ignoring the lingering smell of bleach and soap, she locked herself inside and ran her hands through her hair._ 'Fuck fuck fuck.' _Olivia let go of the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding and ran her fingertips over the ghost of his touch. Her body responded with a surge of shivers.

Studying over herself in the cracked mirror, she noticed the top buttons of her lavender blouse were unfastened, exposing the curve of her breasts and the deep plunge of cleavage that disappeared under the fabric. She must have looked like an offering, with pale, blushing flesh just a few quick tears away. She would have allowed him to have her right then and there, and he fucking knew it.


End file.
